Mexico
by elle.writes
Summary: Wufei hated Mexico. Sweaty, hot, no air conditioning, luke-warm beer, their mission was clearly screwed and his partners had an unfortunate habit of getting too tipsy and exchanging heated looks across the tiny box that was their safe house hideout.


**Title:** Fuck Mexico  
**Pairings/Warnings:** 1x2, 5x5 (oh boy!), mentioned 6x5, implied 6x9, explicit language, sexual tension, explicit sexual content, masturbation, accidental voyeurism  
**Notes:** I wrote this almost a year ago now when I was really down and feeling pretty insecure about my writing and I haven't really looked at it since. But I'm cleaning out my closet so to speak – so whatever.

* * *

Wufei fucking hated Mexico.

It wasn't just hot. It wasn't just dirty. It wasn't just the shitty food that tasted like heaven, burned all the way down, and had you puking your guts out five minutes later. It wasn't just the fact that it was a breeding ground for some of the shittiest, meanest damn terrorists the ESUN had seen to date. No – it was the looks he got, the assumptions, the cold shoulder. The sweat, the intoxicating atmosphere, the colors and lights and the overwhelming density of humanity. It was just not a place Wufei was ever going to like.

But fuck if he could stay in that hotel room one more second. He'd rather suffer the crowd of people pressed in against him moving through the city streets and their disgusted looks than endure one more second of the lusty stares exchanged by his partners.

And truthfully he sympathized with the Mexicans. In aid to the former United States of America, China had destroyed Mexico and kept it out of space just before colonization took off, raping it of the few remaining natural resources the US hadn't already pillaged for their own colonies and leaving it to rot on Earth. In exchange, the US helped China launch their colony first at L5. And frankly, it was almost all for naught when the US didn't even have the resources to launch at L2 until the United Arab Nations stepped in and they began asteroid mining, which only added insult to injury when the Mexican government and it's people realized how unnecessary their desecration was.

They still held a grudge against the Chinese and anyone who hailed from L5. Wufei protested his involvement in this mission on those grounds but was informed that he was only needed as surveillance support and to procure weapons. Duo, despite being from L2, which was equally as well like as his own L5 by the Mexicans, was easily able to blend in as a rogue terrorist agent and he would be making all face-to-face contact as well as doing 100% of the recon himself while Heero waited in the wings to come in as his Yakuza arms-dealing contact.

Wufei still hated the whole damn mission. It was taking a hell of a long time to set up and gain trust, even for Duo, and though the days weren't so bad – wandering around with Heero, checking out abandoned buildings and gathering a choice weapons cache for the inevitable "sale" – the nights were miserable. Sweaty, hot, no air conditioning, shitty luke-warm beer and two men getting too tipsy and exchanging heated looks across the tiny box that was their safe house hideout.

And really, Wufei understood. There was something about the heat that made you crazy. And horny. Really fucking horny and he knew that. And Heero and Duo – their relationship was new. As new as it could be given their extensive history of fucking each other over emotionally all year and then making up with some kind of sexual blow-out that left them both feeling worse than they had before and launching them straight into round two. And three. And five.

But somewhere along the way the therapy must've worked and they were together now. And Wufei minded his own business, he didn't ask, but it was clear the physical component hadn't worn off yet and it was also clear they were trying to respect Wufei and keep their partnership on this mission strictly professional.

It wasn't really working.

Or rather, it was, Wufei supposed. But it was clearly torturing them both and by manner of association, Wufei as well. It wasn't like he had the most active sex life. It wasn't like he was immune to that kind of sexual tension, so thick he felt more suffocated in that room than he did out here on the street. And it wasn't that easy for him. People were afraid of him and the stone wall of perfectionism he stood behind. He didn't blame them, either. But suffice to say the number of dates he'd been on was low and he didn't exactly know how to fundamentally change who he was in order to receive more.

And he was happy for his friends – truly. Heero needed Duo in his life like he needed a mission and every time Duo would quit and run off to the far reaches of the ESUN, Wufei watched his best friend sink into himself in a disturbing way that no one was capable of fixing until he was on the verge of a total break down and then Duo would come back, all self-confident, knight in shining armor shit – somehow always knowing when he was most needed. And Heero would be deliriously happy – well, as delirious as Heero could get – until their little honeymoon phase was over and shit got real and things got too hard for Duo and he left once again.

So to be honest, this was really for the best. But to be on a mission in fucking Mexico with the two of them when they were both ready to rip each other's clothes off the second Duo showed up from wherever the fuck he'd been at two in the morning was difficult – to say the least. Duo would make a big show of inviting Wufei to drink with him, despite the fact that Wufei himself was not much of a drinker, but by the end of the night Duo would be chain smoking off the porch as the sun rose across the sprawling, sinking city while Wufei and Heero tried to sleep until they had to go out for surveillance and Duo would finally crawl into bed as they left.

Yeah. Sleep was hard to come by, too, which didn't help. At all. His nerves were on fire as he wandered through the swirl of lights to some kind of bar, hoping they would serve him. He'd been kicked out of two already and if the third time wasn't a charm he was just going to go back, hoping 15 minutes was enough time for them to have fucked out a little of their barely concealed lust.

They'd been here almost a month now. Tension was high. Frustration was high. Wufei felt it with the sweat trickling down his back. What he wouldn't give for a good, hard fuck. Or some opiates – he wasn't going to be picky.

Beer was a poor substitute for either but desperate times called for desperate measures – and frankly, when he noted the scowl on the bartender's face as he entered bar number three, he realized he wasn't even getting beer. Not unless fucking Duo brought it back from a bodega.

He grimaced and turned back to their apartment, checking his watch to see that the fifteen minute mark had indeed been passed. Surely no one fucked longer than that – not when they were that pent up. Wufei shoved his hands into his pockets, embarrassed that he was a little hard just thinking about what was going on in the safehouse right at that moment. Maybe he'd slam back a few beers, take a shower, and work off a little steam himself. Fuck. How pathetic.

The atmosphere in Mexico was like a perpetual carnival and he shifted through the streets, smelling the temptation of delicious fried foods, listening to a mix of live music and shit piped entirely too loud into the streets as well as people laughing and yelling and speaking rapidly in Spanish, feeling the caked on sweat and dirt baked into his skin and yeah – that shower sounded pretty damn nice even considering the weak, tepid spray that never really got him clean.

Wufei fucking hated Mexico. It was chaos, madness. It was everything he wasn't. It was everything he wanted and nothing he could have.

He hadn't wandered far from their apartment and so he returned with enough time to get a great big whiff of the overpowering scent of cigarettes when he stepped in. Duo nearly never smoked inside. Didn't really matter, the place smelled shitty enough as is, it wasn't like they were home in Sanc in his nice, sterile apartment with no water stains etched into cracking plaster or molding carpet. But that was another thing Duo tried to do out of respect for him and, well, Wufei tried to appreciate it. He hoped Duo had smoked out his post-coital bliss the way Zechs did sometimes and he noted in the absence of his partners the three open beer bottles with cigarette butts shoved inside.

The shower was running, unfortunately, and Wufei assumed that's where his partners had wandered off to after their fuck and that was fine – he could wait. The stale air from the patio drifted in with the sound of flamenco music and a loud argument from next door as he flopped down on one of the two beds, grabbing at his dick a little through his pants, feeling horny and impatient. It wouldn't have been so bad had he been able to get served at a bar, but the frustration of being turned down three times didn't help the already mounting frustration in his libido.

And then he heard it. The moan. He didn't know whose it was but he glanced in the direction of the bathroom only to realize they'd left the door open and his face immediately burned and he turned away, heart racing. They'd already had many, _many_ conversations about proper bathroom etiquette given the ramshackle state of the accommodations and the basically non-existent shower curtain. Duo got more than a kick out of surprising him a few times and he had an annoying habit of not closing the door to begin with.

But this topped everything else. He had half a mind to get up and slam the door shut himself but – that _moan_... He'd heard it again and it shot down his spine like electricity, pooling in his gut and sending his poor, lacking body into overdrive.

It wasn't like Wufei didn't feel any shame when he slowly turned his head back to see exactly who was making that amazing sound. He was mortified by his own actions. But his pants were far too tight and imaging the last time with Zechs two months ago was going to be piss poor in comparison when he basically had a fucking porno available to him.

That just made it all the worse, though. Sure, he thought his friends and co-workers were hot. Who didn't, right? They were in their prime, at the top of their game. They all worked out. They all took care of themselves – with the exception of Duo's cigarettes, which he was 'trying to quit.' Plenty of people at Preventer envied their good looks. Why shouldn't he find them attractive too?

It felt even more wrong after all that justification but once his eyes made out what was going on, Wufei couldn't tear them away. Duo was pressed back into the tile, one leg wrapped up against Heero's hip, holding him close and connecting their hips in a way that oozed sin as they rocked them slowly against one another, one of Duo's hands shoved between their bodies, moving lazily. And Heero's face was buried in Duo's flesh, his tongue lapping at the water and sweat on the tendons of his neck, the dip of his clavicle, nipping at his skin, moaning every time he opened his mouth.

Fuck but it had to be Heero moaning. It was strangely even more erotic, the amount of control Duo seemed to have over him to be able to make such a quiet, stoic man lose enough hibition to moan like _that_. And Duo had his other hand in his damp hair, urging him on. Why couldn't they just have had the frantic five-minute-fuck Wufei had imagined in his head? Why did he have to be here, watching this... this... fucking _romantic_ shit?

Still, his hand had no problem finding it's way into his pants, relieving the tension in his dick with a firm grasp, moving his hand slow, mimicking Duo's pace. And he watched as Duo's other hand slid down to Heero's throat, grasping around it, dragging him up by it into a deep, feral kiss. They were both panting and though the detail was a little blurry at this distance in the poor lighting Wufei knew how their tongues licked at one another, knew the feeling of being kissed like that, and it made his insides constrict as he watched.

Duo's mouth moved to Heero's ear and he said something to him that Wufei couldn't catch over the ambient sound from the streets but Heero closed his eyes and groaned again, his hand kneading Duo's ass as Wufei imagined Duo was licking and biting at his ear. He shivered at the sensation, so caught up in his imagination that he nearly missed it when Heero opened his eyes again. But Wufei crouched up instinctively on the bed so as not to be seen while Duo dropped his leg and Heero fumbled for something on the counter. He didn't think he could be seen from this vantage point anyway, but he sure as hell wasn't willing to risk it with his hand literally in his pants and a raging erection to implicate him.

When the fumbling stopped, Wufei gave it a five count before easing back into a spot where he could see once more. Willingly moving himself back into that position was the pinnacle of his self-loathing but the feeling washed away with the water running down Heero and Duo's bodies. He could see now that Duo had both their hard dicks in his hand and Heero's head buried against Duo's chest as he worked ineffectually at the cap on a bottle of lube.

But that only added to the fascination and Wufei's inability to look away. Heero was so... vulnerable. He always wondered what Heero would be like in bed, in a purely academic way. Despite being very close friends for years, he'd never seen Heero really open up unless forced or on the verge of a mental break down. Wufei had always assumed he would approach sex with the precision of a text book, the way he approached most things. But the way he touched Duo, shaky and uncertain and needy, the way he responded to Duo, with desperate moans and fumbling fingers, was captivating to Wufei.

Duo lifted his leg once more as Heero finally managed to open the bottle, spilling lube across his fingers and reaching down between their bodies. Wufei bit down on his lower lip to fight back a cry as Heero cursed and Duo threw his head back into the tiles, the first time he really seemed affected by what was happening. And then Heero was on the offense, gripping Duo's damp braid in his other hand as he stretched him, biting into his neck, and Wufei ripped at his pants, undoing the button and zipper and freeing himself into the hot, humid air. His breathing was already labored and he stared at his guilty dick, hard, precum pooling at the tip and he glared at it. This was so, so wrong. In every way. But he heard Duo this time and he couldn't help but whimper and grasp at his own cock, giving it a pitiful little tug, wanting to prolong the delicious torture of watching his friends fuck in spite of his guilt.

They kissed again, hands on each other's faces, so intimate Wufei averted his eyes for a moment, and when he looked back Heero had bent his knees slightly, Duo lifting his leg even higher, tilting his hips to position himself to facilitate Heero's entrance. Now it was Duo who rested his head on Heero's shoulder as he shifted his hips slowly in and out, working himself in a little at a time and Wufei found himself dragging his pants down a little further to touch himself like that. It had been so long since he'd been fucked and he knew that feeling and he wanted it. It was why he always went back to Zechs, even when the asshole went and got engaged. Zechs was the only one who seemed to understand what he really wanted – and wasn't intimidated by it.

Then Heero lifted Duo up by his thighs, pressing him hard back into the tile, and Duo wrapped both legs around Heero's waist, his arms across his shoulders, until they seemed impossibly close. Wufei envied Heero's strength – it was a position he'd never tried before and he couldn't imagine it was physically possible for most people. But Duo was lucky enough to be the one fucking Heero and they kissed again, open mouths running against one another sloppily, obviously a challenge with the amount of concentration their exertion took. Duo's fingers dug into Heero's back and Wufei moaned with Heero as he allowed his own fingers to find his prostate and stroke.

Wufei knew he wouldn't last long and he stilled the hand on his dick to appreciate the sensation of his fingers, the visual of Heero fucking Duo into the wall, the audio of Heero moaning and panting and cursing as Duo ran red scratches into his back. But his dick throbbed and dripped cum onto the rough hair beneath his abs and he grabbed for an anonymous undershirt left lying between the beds – probably Duo's, though he didn't care.

He covered himself with the tank and stroked, watching as they lost control, sliding down into the tub together, Duo laughing as Heero repositioned them into what couldn't have been a particularly comfortable position and thrust harder, hips undulating, balls smacking up against the back of Duo's ass. And Duo reached between their bodies to stroke himself too, Wufei copying his pattern for himself, closing his eyes in the final moment, imaging as he let himself moan quietly along with them, back of his fist banging into his hips as they jerked upward, two fingers slamming into his body, that he really was being fucked. That someone was touching him the way Heero touched Duo. That that kind of touch was accessible to him, tangible, something he could have more than once every couple of months when Zechs was high and Wufei was feeling vulnerable.

Heero cursed again as they came together, separated by only a few feet of space between them and a disturbing lack of knowledge on Heero's end. Wufei cracked open his eyes to see Heero sitting up and positioning Duo to help finish him off. Wufei's shame swept through him fast and hard after a few moments of post-orgamsic high and he dropped his eyes to his lap and the pathetic, thin shirt soaked in his cum.

Without wasting another moment, he wiped at his dick, re-fastening his pants and getting up to throw the shirt away. He washed his hands in the tiny kitchenette sink, ignoring the sounds of Duo's orgasm and, after a moment, relieved laughter – Duo saying something about not trying that again. Then it was quiet except for the sound of the spray of water being continually interrupted by what was assumed to be actual showering and Wufei lay back down on the bed, unwilling to glance back at the door to see if his assumption was correct.

It was another long few minutes riddled with crushing shame and the vision of his friends' bodies locked together behind his eyelids before they emerged from the shower, obviously startled by his presence.

"Uh, 'Fei...?" Duo asked cautiously. "We thought, well, ya know..."

Wufei's back was turned to him, eyes shut tight, though he heard them ruffling around quickly for clothes.

"No bar would serve me," he muttered out in reply, still not willing to make eye contact lest he be discovered for the letch that he was.

"I uh – I'm sorry if you, ya know..."

Wufei had rarely heard Duo sound so uncertain and he sighed heavily to let Duo know everything was okay.

"I didn't see anything," he lied. "I just want to try to get some sleep."

"Sure, man," Duo agreed easily, grabbing a beer from the tiny fridge and his pack of smokes before finding his customary place on the few square feet of patio.

Wufei opened his eyes once the door was shut and saw that Heero was out there with him, both of them dressed only in boxers and light tanks like the one Wufei had just trashed, hair wet and soaking through their clothes, the glow of Duo's cigarette flaring for a moment and becoming two in the darkness. Heero stood close as they smoked and nursed their beers, hips brushing, and Wufei heard Duo's deep, husky laugh combine with the flamenco music from the next flat over, muffled through the sliding glass door.

It was nice, he could tell, nice for both of them and he turned over onto his back so he wouldn't have to watch them any more than he already had that day. Wufei was happy for them, really he was. It took them nearly six years to figure it out. Maybe there was still hope for him yet.

He felt the sweat on his skin stagnating in the dense humidity but he didn't have the motivation to shower, knowing exactly what had occurred there only fifteen minutes ago. And then, he heard it. The death knell to his sanity. The last damn thing he needed. The characteristic bang of a bed into the wall above him, the thin ceiling leaving nearly nothing to the imagination.

Wufei fucking hated Mexico.


End file.
